What was Budapest?
by Puella5639
Summary: What if Tasha and Hawkeye never were in Budapest together? Why would Tasha say that? What did she mean? Rated Teen for one small swear word


I adore the Avengers, ADORE THEM! They are my FAVORITE fandom! And Black Widow and Hawkeye are my favorite couple! But this is my first fic of them. I hate all the crummy Budapest stories and had to write my version of one, I am still new at all this so PLEASE be kind and review! That doesn't mean you can't criticize if you don't like a part, but please review!

I sit in the room of the too cold hotel, on the too soft bed. I have been in thousands of hotel rooms, and they all blend together not because of the amount I have been in, but the similarities between them. The neutral colors, the slick bed spread, the dingy carpet, they are all the same. Many people asociate hotel rooms with vacations and fun- I associate them with fights to the death and assassinations. And Clint. Clint... I look towards the closed bathroom door, he said he was just going to freshen up, but I have an awful suspicion he is jut trying to hide the extent of his wounds from me. And after today, after New York, I am sure his wounds must be as spectacular as my own.

I press an ice pack to the bruises blossoming across my torso as I flip through the channels on TV. Cooking. Sports. Children's. Today every channel may as well be identical as they showcase the catastrophes from the battle of New York. I see the same footage over and over again. Aliens gushing from the hole in the sky, Tony flying through the black hole, a bomb pressed to his back. Thor slamming his hammer down. Captain Rogers is showcased quite a bit, saving pedestrians and killing aliens, and of course the Hulk gets a hefty portion of footage as he crushed everything in his path. Of course Clint and I are missing from all the footage. Thanks to special shield software if our images are ever inserted into any type of Internet or satellite connection they are instantly wiped out. So why do I still search every frame of video they are showing, hoping I will see my partner or myself? Because deep down I sometimes wish we could get credit for what we do?

Then Loki is shown on screen, using his glowing death stick to level a skyscraper. I turn off the TV and walk towards the bathroom door, I knock on it. "Clint? You ok?" "Fine! I am fine Tasha!" He doesn't sound fine. I turn away from the door, when I hear a stifled moan that normal ears would probably not be able to detect. I pick the door knob in under a minute, and get inside. And see a nightmare.

"Oh Clint!" I gasp in horror. "Oh, why didn't you tell me? I should be helping you!" Curled up on the floor of the shower, Clint can only moan as bloody water pools around him. His back looks as if it is a pincushion, with rivulets of blood streaming down it and small barley healed scabs indicate where glass is burrowed beneath his flesh. Under his normal scars I see new nicks and cuts, and gashes and scrapes. He has roughly the same amount of bruises I do, but in a wider array of colors. I hate to see him hurting:and I am mad. "Get up!" I shout at him furiously. "Get up you total Ass! Why didn't you tell me? You should be in a hospital you idiot!" He tries to protest as I help him up off the ground. "Nat, it's fine. I can do this, I didn't want to worry you." As he stands gravity forces more blood to cascade down his body, he still wears his pants but I had not even noticed as they have turned so crimson with his blood I did not recognize them as fabric.

"Get out!" I order sharply. In spite of my harsh words I am as gentle as I can be with him, easing his battered body down so he can sit on the closed toilet. "You idiot!" I mutter scornfully. "You have to remove the shrapnel first." He sighs, "I know Tash, I know... I just wanted to get the blood off of me you know?" I bite my lip to hold in the profanity and anger I want to let pour from my mouth, but I have to take care of my partner and that won't help him now.

It takes hours to remove every piece of glass from his back, and bandage his wounds. When I swab every individual cut on his back with stinging iodine we try to talk to help him forget the smarting of his back. But of course nothing can really help. When I have bandaged him up I stand besides the sink as he showers. This is the closest we have been since Loki invaded him and everything feels different. Strained. But when he is done and I have helped him into pajamas, we lay in the same bed as if nothing has changed. It is not for romance, it is for the feeling of being close to someone and being safe.

We are silent for a bit before he speaks. "I am sorry Nat. About everything. About Loki, about the fight, I should have stayed by you. We fight together. I shouldn't have let us be separated." "No Clint!" I soothe him. "We had to separate, it's what was best for the mission, you know that! And everything worked fine. Look, we are both here. It all worked out." He nods and we just lay besides each other for a while, enjoying the company. I look at his face, once again trying to memorize it. I have come so close to losing him so many times, and I never want to forget him. I am so scared I will forget him. We lie besides each other for what feels like hours, eventually I wind up curled in his arms, things feel almost normal in the darkness. Then, when I am almost asleep, he speaks.

"Nat? What did you mean about Budapest earlier? Because I was trying to remember and- I don't think we ever worked Budapest together."

Yeah it's late and I am feeling this fic is not very good -_- Please review and tell me what you think! Ooooh what did Tasha really mean by Budapest? Wait and see! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!


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